


Each Careful Step

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson is a good helpful soldier, Coulson tracks her down, Daisy Johnson is a nice lady, F/M, Hints of Dom!Skye, Learning to control powers, Mention of Skye's Dad, Mild Smut, Post midseason finale, Self-Reflection, Skye is a superhero, Skye needs to work some shit out, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2768498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye has been gone for months after the winter finale, taking some much needed time to sort things out. Coulson decides to check in on her and see whether or not she's ready to come back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Each Careful Step

**Author's Note:**

> First post-midseason finale fic! I've seen a number of really great Skye needs a break/Coulson wants her back stories, so now that we know reasons why she might take such a break, I thought I'd try my hand at it. Also mild smut, because now I can't stop.  
> Title is from Frank Sinatra's "My Way," because I watched Mad Men and now it's stuck in my head.

 

Coulson stepped out of the SUV, removing his aviators and placing them in his jacket pocket. Approaching the brick apartment building, he rubbed his hands together as a bitterly cold gust of wind swept by him. He hadn’t been back to New England in years, and had forgotten that the winters tended to be, well, way harsh.

Checking the names listed next to the doorbells, he pressed the one next to a blank nameplate and waited. As he was about to press again, he heard the buzzer and opened the door. Heading up the stairs, he took note of his surroundings. _Quiet first floor, two names listed, married couple. Group of three on second floor, music playing, college kids having a party._ Reaching the third floor, he straightened his tie and knocked twice. _Here we go._

The door swung open and he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

“You didn’t even check the peephole?” He asked, irritation pushing down the other surges of emotion threatening to rise up as he looked into her eyes.

“Who says I didn’t?” Skye asked, a lopsided smile gracing her mouth. “Relax,” she said, pulling the gun away and holding it carefully by her side. “It’s not loaded.”

“It’s _not loaded_?” That did not make him feel better. Skye rolled her eyes, and although she looked cool as a cucumber, Coulson suspected if he were to place his fingers against her pulse point he’d know she was as nervous as him. “Are you going to let me in?”

“I don’t know, are you going to nag?”

 _Or maybe we’ll just keep trading barbs so neither of us has to take this seriously,_ he thought ruefully. “I won’t nag,” Phil said softly, attempting to get back in a more comfortable area with Skye, one he was used to. Watching as she bit the inside of her cheek, Coulson tried to discreetly take in her appearance. _Hair is lighter and longer._ She wasn’t as thin as when she left, which was a good thing in this case. Her clothes were a conundrum; the fluffy white sweater, while effective against the chilly Maine weather, was not something he would picture Skye wearing.

_But she’s not exactly being Skye right now, is she?_

“Well, stop staring and come in then,” she said, her eyes kind but cautious. Placing the gun in a drawer by the doorway and locking it, Skye slipped the key back in her bra. Coulson raised an eyebrow, and she smiled sweetly. “If it ain’t broke…”

Walking through the entryway, Coulson scanned the apartment. Small kitchen, cozy living room with a sofa, coffee table and armchair, all clean but clearly second hand. _Candles?_ That was new. Glancing down the hall he saw two dark doorways, likely a bedroom and bathroom.

“Please, come in, make yourself at home, assess possible threats,” Skye said, flopping into the armchair. Coulson smiled at her. While anyone else would look at her and see her relaxed pose and easy smile, he could see the tension in her limbs and question behind her eyes. Even after all this time, he knew Skye. It didn’t hurt that he _knew_ the conversation they were about to have.

Unbuttoning his jacket, Coulson sat opposite Skye on the sofa. “This is nice,” he commented, looking around more freely now. “It looks pretty lived-in. In a good way,” he corrected himself quickly, while she stared him down.

“Because it is lived-in,” Skye shot back.

_For a month or two, maybe._

“How did you find me?” she asked, standing up and heading to the kitchen. Coulson followed, knowing that if they were going to do this, they should get it over with. “I’m surprised it took so long.” She reached into the cabinet and took out two mugs. Gesturing to an electric kettle, she raised an eyebrow questioningly, and he nodded.

“Are you? Surprised?” Skye had a lifetime of making herself disappear with minimal resources under her belt, while SHIELD was still a shadow operation getting by with whatever was available. “This isn’t the old days, where an old guy with government ties and endless resources can track down a girl with a laptop and a van,” Coulson said, fondly.

“Please don’t pull the old guy card on me, Coulson.” Skye said, exasperated, leaning back against the kitchen counter. When the kettle began to whistle, she poured the hot water in the two mugs and dropped a teabag in each. Handing him one, she gave him a stare that meant business.

“I thought you wanted time,” Coulson shrugged, watching as the tea steeped slowly. Nodding, Skye motioned for him to follow as she sat back on the chair, and the two placed their mugs on the table between them.

Sitting across from her, Coulson was able to take a longer look at Skye. Her hair, now almost dark blonde, made her deep brown eyes look impossibly wider. She had kept the bangs, but they had grown out to the point that they fell into her eyes, obscuring his view of them as she looked down into her lap.

“So you didn’t look for me right away,” she asked, but it wasn’t really a question.

“Did you want me to?”

Skye sighed, and simply stared at him.

“I kept tabs,” he admitted.  

“There it is,” she muttered, blowing on her tea, not breaking eye contact. Coulson coughed, not missing the triumphant look that passed across Skye’s face.

It wasn’t that Coulson didn’t want to give Skye her space. She had made it clear when she left that was what she wanted, and he was going to respect that. But she was leaving them with minimal control over her powers and who knows what kind of forces could be looking for her. She had shot Ward, she told him proudly, but shaking, after they had escaped the temple and made it back onto the Bus. He had been so relieved for the moment, but a sweep of the theater afterward showed that either Ward’s body had gone missing, or he had walked away. Gritting her teeth, Skye shut down at that point, locking herself in her bunk.

_And that was before we knew._

***

“I just can’t believe he’s not coming back,” Skye told him, after finally letting Coulson in. She sat on her bed, curled in on herself, as if trying to make herself smaller. “He should not have been down there.” Coulson leaned against the closed door, wanting more than anything to comfort her, but holding back. Since they came out of there, she had been keeping her distance from everyone, including him.

In the heat of the moment, when the temple finally reopened, he had been so happy to see her in one piece and _the same_. After the terrible things her father had said about change, and how little Skye wanted that, he was so happy for her that she was able to stay who she was.

He hadn’t asked about what happened, if anything had really changed, but trusted Skye would come to him in time.

“The Obelisk triggered a massive earthquake,” Coulson replied. “Imagine how much worse it could have been if he hadn’t destroyed it?” Skye had been frozen when he found her, kneeling on the floor next to where Trip had been. Phil himself felt the air ripped out of his lungs when he saw what had become of him. But the temple was collapsing around them and he had to get Skye and Mack out of there. Feeling his own regret pull at him, Coulson did his best to reassure Skye. “Trip died a hero.”

 _Trip made it to you in time, if I had been able to get there sooner_... He winced.

Noticing Skye tense up, Coulson frowned. “Skye?” She shook her head and dropped her face into her hands. “Skye, this was not your fault.” As he spoke, he felt the ground beneath them begin to shake, and his eyes widened. _Another earthquake?_ The tremors grew, and the minimal possessions Skye had on the shelves began to slide off. Throughout the Bus, Phil heard members of the team begin to shout. “We need to get off the ground,” Coulson said, turning to leave.

He felt Skye’s hand grab his wrist, _tight_ , and he looked at her curiously.

“Please. Don’t leave me.” Her eyes were wide with fear, and Phil wondered if maybe she had been traumatized by the previous quake.

“Skye, we need to get out of here--” her hand gripped him tighter.

“That won’t work,” she told him desperately. He stared at her bewildered and concerned, they needed to go _now_. “Coulson…” He looked up from the hand on his arm meeting her eyes, and saw not just the fear, but the _guilt_ there.

_That’s impossible._

“Please don’t go,” she implored tearfully, and a glass fell to the floor, shattering. Feeling himself moving in slow motion, Coulson sat down next to Skye, pulling her roughly into his arms.

The shaking stopped.

***

“How did you find me?” Skye repeated, running one finger over the lip of her mug. Phil watched it do two rotations before pulling out his phone. At her confused look, he handed her the phone so she could swipe through the images he had pulled up.

They were news articles, from the last 8 months, across five different states.

California and Nevada, where the tremors weren’t completely unheard of, but seemed even more frequent than usual. A couple unusual quakes in the midwest. Finally the east coast.

“It’s pretty much unheard of to have earthquakes in Maine, but this one was minor, barely detectable. And almost three months ago.” Coulson watched her expression carefully as she scanned the articles, then placed the phone carefully on the table. He reached for it and put it back in his pocket. “You’ve learned to control it.”

Skye’s face remained guarded, but she put her mug down and leaned forward. Coulson watched as she placed one finger on the coffee table. His eyes didn’t leave hers, but she nodded in the direction of his own abandoned cup.

The smooth surface of the tea was slowly disrupted with ripples.

Nothing else in the room moved.

Phil looked up at her, stunned. “Skye,” he breathed, “that’s-- _you’re_ incredible.” If ‘stars in your eyes’ were actually possible, Coulson was 99 percent sure he had them at that moment. Bashful, but quietly proud, Skye removed her finger from the table, and the motions in the cup faded.

“It’s nothing, I just--” Coulson stopped her there, grasping her hand in both of his. Her eyes shot up.

“I knew you could do it,” he told her sincerely, squeezing her hand gently. “I am so proud of you.”  Skye’s face seemed to cloud over, and she looked away with an unreadable look on her face. _What? Did I say something wrong?_ Coulson frowned. “Skye--” she stood up, walking toward the hallway. “Skye. What’s wrong? You’re doing so well, I can’t believe you’ve done all that in less than a year. Don’t you see how amazing that is?”

Skye had always been a source of awe to him, but this had brought it to an entirely new level. Not just her abilities, but the way she had been able to master them, use them with a subtlety they had both feared would be impossible. And so quickly.

_What did I do wrong?_

He followed close behind her, halting when she put a hand up. “Just give me a minute, Coulson?” He nodded, and she walked into her bedroom and closed the door.

 _Dammit_. Phil had no idea where it went south, but knew Skye well enough to know that they would talk about this. They weren’t the type to keep secrets from each other, and when they did… Well, it was like May had said. It didn’t end well. But keeping secrets from the rest of the team had become a bad habit between the two of them.

While Skye had always fought for full disclosure, ever since she was injected with the GH-325 she came to realize that sometimes you just couldn’t have everyone in the know. If their personal safety wasn’t directly at risk (the two of them had debated what exactly this meant when discussing her powers. Coulson won out--but barely, not quite convincing Skye she wasn’t an immediate danger to the team,) they wouldn’t know all the details. ‘ _Until we figure this out_ ,’ Coulson had told her, ‘ _we don’t have to tell them, Skye.’_

 _We_. He always said we, because if he felt like he was keeping secrets with Skye, he wasn’t betraying his own goal of being more open with the team. Phil also needed her to know that he was on her team, and they were in this together. And even though Skye was as independent as they come, she needed someone on her team right now.

And he had hoped, selfishly, that if she knew he was on her side, she wouldn’t feel the need to leave. They reached a sad sort of compromise; the team didn’t have to know about her powers, not yet, but Coulson would have to let her go. She would come back, she told him. _‘Eventually. Probably._ ’

Busying himself, Coulson returned to the living room and grabbed both mugs, now gone cold. He placed them in the sink, tossing the teabags in the garbage. Leaning against the counter, Coulson looked around the small kitchen. It was painted bright yellow with dark wood that clearly had some years on it. The refrigerator, by contrast, was bright white and brand new, as was the stove. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem to own a microwave. On the countertop sat a small pile of bills, by the look of them, they were for electricity and gas. _No TV either._

As he was about to look away, something on the bills caught his eye. He picked up the envelopes, staring at the address.

“You know it’s a felony to mess with someone else’s mail?” Skye asked, not annoyed, but tired.

“‘Daisy Johnson?’” Coulson asked.

_‘I will always love you, Daisy.’_

Skye shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself. “You saw your father again,” Coulson deduced, and Skye nodded, not meeting his eyes. “Is everything okay? With you two?”

Skye laughed humorlessly. “I mean, relatively okay. As okay as the two of us could be after...everything.”

Coulson nodded, placing the bills back on the counter. “That’s good,” he told her sincerely, and she stared at him incredulously.

“Good? Coulson, he tried to _beat you to death_. He’s killed I don’t know how many people, in what world would you think it’s a good thing for me to be seeing him?” Skye seemed angry somehow, as if she had wanted him to be upset she didn’t hate her own father.

“If it helps you Skye, of course I want you to have a relationship with your father. Look, I know you said you didn’t care, but you spent your entire life searching for your past. And he loves you… in his own way,” Coulson quirked his mouth at his own lame clarification, but if Skye appreciated the humor she wasn’t showing it. Stepping closer, Coulson tried to get her to meet his eyes. “I may never understand fully what you’re feeling, and what you’re going through, but please believe me when I say I understand wanting a connection with your father. When maybe all signs point to it not being a good idea.”

Skye looked up at him, her eyes clear and open. They had watered slightly, but no tears made their way down her cheeks. “He hates you, you know,” she told him, not sounding angry, but maybe regretful? There was something else there.

“I guessed,” Coulson replied wryly. “I hope you know I’m fine, Skye. I’ve been an agent for...let’s just say a long time. That’s not the first time I’ve gotten the crap kicked out of me. Maybe the first time by my agent’s angry father.”

“No, it’s not just for killing Whitehall,” she told him seriously.

Whitehall. When Coulson had found out what that creature had done to Skye’s mother --and planned to do to her-- he nearly understood what had driven Cal to do the things he did. The thought should have scared him--he suspected it scared Skye, and that her sharing the story with him was an attempt on her part to not bottle it up the way her father had-- but it didn’t. Coulson could never see himself doing what the doctor had dreamed about doing to Whitehall, but he couldn’t look at him without any empathy either.

“He thinks you’re trying to...replace him,” Skye told Coulson, choosing her words very carefully. Coulson pursed his lips slightly, remembering what Cal had expressed, repeatedly.

_‘You’re not her father.’_

_‘I’m her father, not you.’_

“Yeah, I got that part too,” he told her, and Skye nodded, swallowing heavily. As he watched her carefully, things started to add up. _When I said I was proud of her, did she think…_ “He still thinks I’m trying to be your father?”

Skye’s face shot up. “You’re not?”

Coulson gave her a strange look, perhaps exaggerating his baffled expression a bit. “I’m not old enough to be your dad,” he told her emphatically, earning a quick laugh that seemed to surprise even Skye. _That’s the best thing I’ve heard in 8 months._

“I think technically you are,” Skye told him, smirking a bit. “No offense. But you know, we said we’d be honest with each other.” Coulson nodded at her, no offense taken.

“Skye,” he told her seriously, reaching out to cup her cheek in his hand. “If I thought, when I met you, that you were looking for a father figure to guide or parent you, maybe I would have tried for that. But frankly, I’m not really in a place to decide what a father is, and I never suspected that’s what you needed, from me or anyone.” His other hand joined the first, caressing her cheek and moving down to her neck. “And I’m 100 percent sure that if your actual dad was paying attention, he would hate me for a _completely_ different reason.”

Looking up at him, Skye smiled widely. “Okay, can we stop talking about dads now? Because it’s starting to creep me out.” At his emphatic nod Skye pulled him into a deep kiss, one that Coulson had been wanting for way longer than he probably should have. Wrapping his arms around her, Coulson was surprised to find that she was shaking. He pulled away quickly to look at her face, drawing from her a disappointed ‘ _Aww_.’

Confused, he furrowed his brow. “Sorry, I thought--” moving his hands up and down her arms, Coulson paused. She _was_ shaking. Seeing his face, Skye smiled awkwardly.

“Yeah, about that…” She moved her hands up to his face, and Coulson could feel it, this gentle _hum_ coming out from beneath her skin.

“That’s...good, right?” Phil asked, wanting to clarify before this went any further. At her enthusiastic nod, Coulson pulled her into another deep kiss, groaning. “That’s _so cool_ ,” he muttered against her lips, tasting the laugh he found there.

“Just wait,” Skye replied pulling an obedient Coulson down the hall by his belt. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

***

The two of them sat in Skye’s bed, looking at her drivers’ license. Were he a younger man, Coulson just might have been ready to go round two after seeing Skye jump out of bed naked to fish the fake ID out of her jacket pocket. As it was, he decided to enjoy the view and the conversation instead for now and table future activities. If he was right, they would have time for that later.

“It’s better than Thor’s,” he told her, earning a strange look, but she didn’t pursue. “‘Johnson,’ is your father’s...?” Phil asked carefully, not finishing the thought in case she didn’t want to talk about it. He was curious though.

“No, no,” she told him, “just something simple. Common.” Coulson nodded.

“Difficult to track down.”

“Bingo.” She smiled, and he returned it, stroking her cheek with his thumb. The look in her eyes went from fond to suddenly very serious, and he was concerned he had done something wrong before she pulled him into a kiss. His mouth opened under hers immediately, but it was clear from the get go that this one wasn’t urgent. She was taking her time, and Coulson found himself hoping that it was because she knew there would be many many more kisses. It could very well be she was trying to memorize it: the feel of his tongue against hers, the slightly pathetic sounds he made every time she did something new or he simply remembered that he was _kissing_ _Skye_.

She pulled away casually, running her thumb over his bottom lip, grinning.

“What’s that face?” Coulson asked, disappointed the kissing was over, but happy to simply look at her.

“I like this look on you, Boss,” she reached up and smoothed his hair a bit. He hadn’t seen it, but assumed it must have gotten mussed. Recalling Skye’s fingers combing through it gently, then slowly becoming more forceful until she was _pulling_ , Coulson smirked.

_‘Careful, there isn’t much there.’_

_‘Ugh, enough with the self pity, old man.’_

Phil reached up and ran his own fingers through her hair gently, careful to avoid any snags. “Your hair is different.” Skye brushed through it herself, and he sat back and watched her. It was so easy between them, just spending time together like this. Naked from the waist up, barely covered by the sheet, but he hadn’t even attempted to hide the scar on his chest. Well, he did initially, but Skye made it very clear she wouldn’t have that.

It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, he felt the same way with her now as he did working in his office together or standing by the holotable. _But now I’m free to look,_ he thought, utilizing that freedom and drinking in the image of her. Bare breasts, just a light sheen of sweat from sex still evident between them. Her dark blonde hair a mess, her limbs loose and relaxed. Catching him, Skye reached over and placed her hand somewhat-innocently above his knee.

“You like it?”

“I like _you_ ,” he replied, earning an eye roll and a light squeeze on his upper thigh. Phil leaned over and kissed her languidly, _Another thing I wouldn’t have been able to do in my office before._

Skye pulled back, running her hands through her hair again, attempting to gently comb out some knots. “I thought about chopping it off, but that seemed a little too on-the-nose. Dramatic life change, dramatic haircut.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “I like it, it’s...different, but I’m not sure I don’t want to go back to how it was before. If that’s possible.”

“I’m not sure exactly how hair coloring works, Skye, but I’m pretty sure you can go back.” Skye gave him that wide-eyed ‘ _Really_?’ stare, and Coulson smiled sheepishly. “If you want to go back, you can Skye.”

“It’s not that simple though,” she argued, dropping any illusions they were talking about hair. “Before everything, I was ‘Skye of the Rising Tide.’ Then I was ‘Consultant Skye,’ then ‘Agent Skye,’ and now? I don’t know what I am.” She looked at the a bedroom around her, one that was clearly a home to _someone_. But she didn’t seem sure that someone was her.

“How have you been liking ‘Daisy?’” Coulson asked, and Skye wrinkled her nose.

“She’s nice. But she doesn’t feel like me.”

“I hope you know, you can still take parts of everyone you’ve been to be who you are moving forward,” he told her earnestly. “There’s no reason Rising Tide Skye and Agent Skye can’t be reconciled with Superhero Skye.”

Skye snorted. “I’m not a superhero.”

This time it was Coulson’s turn to stare her down. _You’re kidding me, right?_ “Skye, I know it’s not what you wanted, but--”

“I kind of wanted it,” she blurted out, and Phil looked at her in surprise but didn’t interrupt. “I mean...I think that growing up I always wanted to be normal. I wanted to be a normal kid with a normal name and a normal family. But then I got older, and got the idea of being _special_. I wanted to be special. Special to someone, special on my own.” She sighed looking down at her hands, as if looking through them directly at the power they held. “Maybe not in this way, exactly. It’s scary, this part of me, but it also feels like it’s been there the whole time. And as horrible as it started out, I feel like I might be able do something great with it.”

“You will,” Coulson told her seriously. “Look at all you’ve done the past few months, Skye. Imagine what you’ll do in the next few years.”

“With SHIELD?” She asked.

Coulson considered her carefully. “If you want it to be.” He didn’t want her to feel as though he was pressuring her to stay with him now that they’d had sex. Of course he wanted that to continue, he wanted all of it to continue. Having Skye with him moving forward was so deeply important to him, but she had found herself in so many situations over which she had no control, and he did not want her to feel like this was one.

Skye stared. “What do _you_ want?” Coulson was so intent on meeting her gaze, he almost didn’t notice her hand return to its spot on his thigh. It was still, but he could feel that subtle hum thrumming against his skin behind the sheet.

“You know how I feel, Skye. This is your decision,” he told her. Her hand moved stealthily under the sheet, on the same spot but now with no barrier between their skin. He sucked in a breath.

“No,” she said. “Tell me.” It was an order, and something about it sent an electric jolt down Coulson’s spine. Glancing at where her hand was, then back to her face, Coulson gave an imperceptible shake of his head. He wasn’t going to tell her to stay with him, and he wasn’t going to guilt her. This was in her hands.

 _Speaking of hands,_ Phil gasped as her fingers circled his half hard cock. As her hand began to move slowly, Skye held his gaze.

“Tell me.”

Part of Coulson was confused by this turn of events, but the part of him that buzzed with excitement at her instruction (and the part she had her hand around) wanted to tell her _everything_.

“Tell me, Coulson.” Her hand continued moving slowly, and he turned on his side to face her more fully. He watched her face intently as she jerked him off, his breath hitching. Skye simply watched him. It felt amazing, but the lack of speed wasn’t getting him anywhere. He was stuck.

“Faster, please,” he breathed, but Skye kept her slow and agonizing pace.

“Tell me if you want me to stay,” she told him slowly, annunciating every word. Coulson sighed pathetically, every nerve on fire. But he shook his head. Her hand slowed.

“ _Shit_ ,” he cursed, throwing a hand over his eyes. _This might be what kills me,_ Phil thought, deciding it might not be such a bad way to die.

“It’ll be easy, just say it and we can speed up, Phil, _"_  Skye said serenely, rubbing her palm across the tip for emphasis.

“I want you to stay,” he told her in a rush, giving up. He dropped his head back against the headboard, praying that’s what she wanted to hear. Skye’s hand began to move faster, and Coulson almost cried in relief. But upon realizing that she had simply returned to her original, leisurely pace, he let out a quiet whine. Skye was silent, and it hit him: she was waiting for him to continue. “Please stay, Skye,” he begged. “Please stay with me.” A slow smile crawled over her face, and Skye’s hand began to pump him in earnest. “I need you to stay, and help me run SHIELD,” he confessed, and her hand stopped completely.

He just barely stifled a yell, but Skye’s shocked expression brought him back to earth a bit. “That surprises you?” He asked, breathlessly, almost tempted to just finish the job himself so they could have this conversation. But he didn’t think Skye would like that, so he held back, hands clenching the sheets tightly.

“You want me to help you _run SHIELD_ ,” Skye asked incredulously.

“Yes, Skye, that’s what I said. You’ve been an integral part of forming SHIELD after Hydra revealed itself and had a say in planning almost all of our ops,” he told her. “We’ve been getting by, but there’s no way we’re at our full potential without you. I need you to help me continue this, and maybe, in the future…” he let that sentiment hang, and Skye threw her arms around him.

Her face tucked into his neck, Skye whispered, “Thank you,” and Phil smiled, letting one hand rest on her back while the other stroked her hair.

Now _._

The hug was lovely. He would never get tired of holding Skye’s warm body in his arms. But _good God._

“Um, Skye?” He asked, and she murmured back a quiet _‘_ Yes?'

“Could we maybe...I’m a little worked up here,” Phil tried to be delicate but his situation felt pretty dire. And now that it seemed confirmed Skye was going to come back to the Playground with him, his relief and happiness was manifesting itself in another form.

“ _Oh_! Yeah, sorry AC,” Skye said, looking contrite. But instead of resuming her previous motions, Skye threw a leg over his, straddling his lap. “Just one more question you need to answer,” she said in a sing song voice, and Phil was worried he might just pass out. She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “How do you want it this time?”

***

Returning to the Playground with Skye was arguably the best Phil had felt in a long time. Well, okay, over the past 24 hours there were quite a few moments to compete with that. But seeing the wide smile on Simmons’ face at her friend’s return, the more-detectable-than-usual look of relief in May’s eyes as she patted Skye on the arm, and the friendly but awkward hug Hunter gave, well, that was pretty great.

“Welcome home, Skye,” Jemma said, pulling her in for another tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re back, it’s been--” she cut herself off. “Nevermind that.” Skye gripped the scientist in an even tighter hug, and Coulson communicated with a raised eyebrow that the rest of the team should probably give them a minute. Skye’s guilt over Trip was still enormous, and she had admitted on the ride back that she had been worried most about Simmons, since the two were ‘close.’

Walking in the direction of his office, Coulson felt May following him. He stopped to let her catch up. “You seem happy,” she observed passively.

“It’s good to have the team back together,” he replied with a casual nod.

“How did you get her to come back?” she asked, and Coulson looked at her. May stopped in her tracks, staring him down. Instantly he felt as though her eyes were taking in his shifty appearance: the elevated heart rate. The way he kept looking back in the direction of the hangar. He had triple checked his suit before pulling the SUV into the base, had he missed a wrinkle or hair that would tell her all she needed to know? But then May just looked him in the eyes, and he knew she saw it all.

_She’s **really** good at that._

“Phil, what did you tell her?” May asked, in a way that wasn’t quite a warning, but had all the implications of one. He shrugged.

“Everything.”

 

 


End file.
